


Blood & Glory

by JusticeAU



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Swearing, Third Semester, maruki doesn't have a palace, phantom thieves have a collective palace, sumire was never kasumi, violet joined during shido's palace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusticeAU/pseuds/JusticeAU
Summary: The year 2017 has just begun and the Phantom Thieves of Hearts have done their job and moved on... right? The fact that Goro Akechi is back from the dead, and that a Palace in the form of a theater has sprung up in Odaiba, say otherwise.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Guests of Honor

“Well shit… _that’s_ a fucking palace.”

Akira Kurusu, Goro Akechi, and Sumire Yoshizawa stand before a huge sprawling theater, colored stage lights gleaming through the windows, light-up letter board signs illuminating the streets of Odaiba, cutting through the cold January air. The sign advertises _**The Phantom Thieves Special | Watch in Awe as The Legendary Phantom Thieves Steal the Hearts of Corrupt Adults!**_ , various, though wholly unremarkable individually, Japanese citizens mill about underneath, some lined up and some just standing in groups nearby.

“How the hell…?” Akira voices softly, the words condensing in the chill around him. “This shouldn’t be possible.”

Akechi huffs. “Well it’s here, isn’t it?”

“Senpai, what is going on? Whose Palace even is this?” Sumire’s normally bubbly voice is reduced to a strangled confusion. “I thought you guys were done as the Phantom Thieves…”

“I thought so, too. We erased Mementos and the Metaverse entirely. At least, I thought we did.”

Akechi moves his attention from the theater towards Akira. “So?”

“...So?”

“You know what this means, right? This palace must have something to do with the current public perception of the Phantom Thieves. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed; they’re fucking obsessed with you guys. If you really dispatched of the Metaverse, they shouldn’t even know you existed in the first place.”

When Akira woke up New Year's Day to the almost sickening amount of praise and admiration being showered upon the Phantom Thieves, in all honesty, he didn’t want to question it. Sure, they had been raised onto a pedestal before, but this was on a whole new level; here, has to admit to himself and his—friend? ex-teammate? murderer?—that the heights are downright dizzying, and shouldn’t even be happening at all. It’s all almost too much to process.

When Akira fails to answer, Akechi sighs, and pulls out his smartphone. A few taps on the screen gives him his answer. “There’s no name.”

“What? No name?” Sumire asks as she pulls out her phone as well, and then Akira. Sure enough, there’s just, nothing. An empty space where a Palace ruler would normally be, as well as the place. The distortion is simply called, “theater.”

“Senpai… what now?” Sumire softly breathes the question into the air around them.

“What else? We’re going in.” Akechi doesn’t wait for the two of them to respond before turning towards the Palace and marching forward.

“Wait, Senpai! Is that safe?”

Akechi doesn’t respond; Akira quickly moves to catch up, with Sumire on his heel.

The bright lights are nearly blinding as they approach the building. All of the Palaces had been massive, garish shows of hubris, but something about this one hits differently for Akira—even Shido’s Ark felt flimsy, paper-thin compared to the show before them. It has a similar atmosphere to the pretension of the museum, but somehow more… poignant. Dread settles into his heart of steel like nothing before it. White brick and mortar reaching high above them, ornate, monumental clock tower brushing the clouds, huge arches framing stained glass windows; as they approach, Akira can begin to make out the designs. Ten windows in all, one for each of the Phantom Thieves. The dread drips down to coat his stomach as well.

The theatergoers don’t seem to notice the trio approaching, or perhaps they simply don’t care, engrossed in their discussions, presumably about the glamour and mystique of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. Some of them anxiously check their phones, watches, or crane their neck upwards to the clock. The air is charged with a restless, almost frantic energy.

“Jesus…” Akechi mutters. Akira couldn’t say it better himself. The three of them can hardly do anything but continue walking towards the front entrance, in awe, and unease. Akira feels like his hands are going to freeze right off of him despite being shoved deep into his pockets, and the cold air certainly doesn’t help keep the acrid bile from rising into his throat.

The front doors of the theater burst open before them, and the tension of the crowd around them begins to come to a head. The two theater workers, one in each doorway, quickly work to settle the crowd down, until one of them notices the trio amongst the groups.

“Ah, the guests of honor! Right this way, right this way.” The worker—shadow?—ushers them into the building; they exchange unsettled glances, but each come to the same conclusion of, _what other choice do we have?_

Stepping through the doors into the gaudy building, a subtle floral scent weaving around them, through them, astonishment washing over them. Marbled floor and imposing pillars, draped in red velvet; plush chairs and loveseats, the same. Blood crimson sinks into every corner except for some sparse gold & black accents. Directly ahead is the ticketbooth the trio are guided toward.

“Ah yes, Kurusu-kun, Akechi-kun, and Yoshizawa-chan, you’re just in time! Please, go on ahead, my friend here will show you to your seats.” The ticket taker doesn’t even mention, well, taking their tickets, instead just pointing to the doorman that led them in, who in turn, gestures toward the next set of doors. The way to the stage, most likely.

“Guests of honor, eh?” Akechi practically spits out under his breath. “Stay on your toes; we’re apparently not deemed a threat yet, but that hardly means we’re safe.” The words need not be said, as the three of them could not be more on edge than they are now as they’re led out of the lobby, down a long hallway, through the door at the end.

The stage and seating are, surprise surprise, just as ostentatious as the lobby and outside. More blood fabric draped over, stretched over surfaces. The air is suffocating.

“Your seats.”

Front row, naturally.

“The show will be starting soon.” He bows before elegantly departing.

Akechi takes his seat, Akira to his right, and then Sumire beside him. Akira shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how unusually affected you are by all this, Akira. Yoshizawa-san I get, but you?”

“I can’t explain it—something here is… wrong. Different from other Palaces.”

“So you feel it too.” Akechi furrows his brows as he leans back in his chair. “There’s so much we don’t know, who the hell made this place, how it’s here, why it feels like straight hell in here—already?” Akechi’s interrupted by the lights above them dimming; Akira can’t help but feel strange about the fact that they’re the only three in here.

Several seconds of raw silence, before a single spotlight shines onto the stage, decorated to look like… a prison? Not quite a traditional prison, with its brick floor and drawbridges stretching over a moat running straight through the middle. Where has Akira seen this before?

“Guards! Throw that weird cat thing in the cell at the end! Get it out of my sight!” A figure in a fluffy pink cape dramatically bounds into the scene, pointing to the far cell.

Wait a moment.

Akira gapes.

“Let me go! Mrooww!”

Two guards appear on the other side of the stage, carrying a figure dressed in a black suit with a black mask and fluffy cat ears. They flail in the arms of guards, hamming it up for the stage, and are tossed into the cell, rolling several times over after landing. Akechi scoffs.

“Oh woe is me!” The cat cries out. “Alas, I am caged once again!”

“This is ridiculous.” Akechi declares as he stands and turns toward the exit.

“Hey, you! In the front row!” The cat drops the act to cry out to Akechi. “The show isn’t over!” 

“Fuck this!” Akechi yells back. “I’m not wasting my time watching some bullshit second-rate middle school production.”

“It seems we have a rebellious one in the crowd.” The cat-figure rises to their feet. “So be it! If you’re not gonna play along, then you’re getting cut from this performance!”

The actors on the stage all melt into the familiar black goo that forms itself into shadows, except, instead of taking form, all spilling toward center stage to coalesce before rising up to take shape.

Blue flame surrounds the trio for a flash second, consuming their normal clothes to leave behind their Thief attire.

“Shit.” Crow so very eloquently puts it.

“Senpai, what do we do!”

What else? “We fight.” Joker pulls his dagger from his coat and spins it in his fingers, taking a ready stance.

“I guess I’ll have to take navigator, then.” Crow brandishes his blade as well.

“Brace yourselves!” Violet cries out as the air around them seems to shatter like glass.

The shadow goo forms into a tall figure with wide shoulders framed by a black fur lion’s mane, slim waist that slopes down to even thinner legs, paws as hands with silver-white claws like daggers. Piercing blue eyes peer from underneath a wide-brimmed pointed hat. The shadow growls, the sound ripping through the air.

“This shadow is like nothing we’ve seen before, but don’t let that scare you. This thing doesn’t know what’s coming.” Crow asserts, “Joker, take it away.”

After almost nine months of near constant battling and dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of shadows, fighting and commanding are second-nature for Joker. He sizes up the shadow before him, but something about it makes him falter. He doesn’t tell his teammates that the prison in the “play” was a recreation of the basement of Kamoshida’s Palace—a crude imitation, but undeniable. The cat-figure, Morgana, being jailed by King Kamoshida.

The shadow before them shares striking similarities to Morgana’s starting Persona, Zorro, albeit more sinister, more frightening, more dangerous; if Crow and Violet notice as well, they don’t show it. Had they even seen Zorro’s starting form? Joker tries to think back, Crow joining before the Casino, Violet just before they took down Shido, it’s possible that they hadn’t even seen Morgana’s Persona before he awakened to Mercurius.

But there’s no time to explain as Joker needs to issue commands before the shadow can take the first strike.

“Violet, kougaon!”

“Cendrillon!”

The white streams of light burst up from the floor to take out a sliver of health.

“Yoshitsune, hassou tobi!”

Eight sword slashes directly to the shadow, inflicting another almost imperceptible amount of damage.

“Crow, lævateinn!”

_“Loki!!”_

Another sword slash cleaves straight through it.

“Shit, we’re barely making a dent in it!”

The shadow, unbothered by their wimpy baby attacks, reaches up and swipes with its claws, slicing through the trio and knocking all of them down on their asses.

“Joker, look out!”

Joker just barely reels back out of the way of the shadow slamming it’s paw down on top of him. Just what the hell is this thing?

“Senpai, I’m sorry but I think we’re outmatched!”

“Loathe to say it but I agree.”

“Fall back!” Joker demands as the three scramble to their feet. The shadow leaps to pursue them, but they tear off towards the exit just barely faster than the shadow can follow. Crashing through the door into the hallway, the nearby theater worker turns its head towards the thieves.

Joker’s reflexes vault him on top of the shadow, crying out, “I’ll reveal your true form!” as he rips the mask from its head. The shadow dissolves into sludge before coming back up to materialize as the air shatters.

This one bears a sharp metal helmet, tall collar with silver buckles, black duster not dissimilar from Joker’s own aside from the dark red lining, blades on the bottom of its feet, and wields a long black blade with a wrapped handle.

“It doesn’t seem as powerful as the last but stay on your guard!” Crow announces.

“Thor, Ziodyne!” The bolt of electricity strikes down, and the shadow laughs as the energy sinks into its skin.

“It absorbs electricity!” Crow grits his teeth.

Violet, vorpal blade, Crow, gunfire. The shadow Maziodynes, unaffecting Joker but striking both Crow and Violet. The injuries aren’t severe enough for immediate attention, so Joker instead pulls up Vishnu for a Magarudyne. The shadow cries out in pain at being nailed in the weak point.

 _ **Hold up!**_ The three surround the shadow and pull their guns on it.

“What the hell is this place?” Crow growls before Joker can give an order.

“It is not my place to tell you.” A low smooth voice slips into the air.

“The fuck does that mean!”

“Crow, you know that the stronger the shadow, the less we can negotiate with it.”

Crow scoffs. “Whatever. Lets just take it out!”

Joker calls an All-Out Attack as they rush the downed shadow, slicing it to pieces with their blades until it dissolves back into the black goo. Joker watches the goo fade as he tugs on his red glove.

“Joker-senpai, I don’t think we can handle this on our own. I think we should get the others before we come back.”

“Do you really think those spineless teammates of yours are going to be helpful here? They’re too busy having their dicks jerked off by the rest of the world right now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“The shadows here are no joke. Surely I can talk some sense into them.”

Sigh, “I guess we have no other choice. C’mon Joker, Violet, let's get out of here.”


	2. Vainglory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "vainglory: inordinate pride in oneself or one's achievements; excessive vanity."

“So um, pardon my asking but is Akechi-senpai always that… intense?” Sumire shovels another spoonful of curry into her mouth.

Akira, standing on the other side of the bar in the small café, toys with a lock of his hair. “Well, yeah. You get used to it.”

Sumire nods, chewing; swallows. “You two fight well together; I’m surprised Akechi-senpai listens to anybody as he does to you. He must really trust you.”

Akira shifts his weight. “I guess you could say that.” Memories of last November, December dart through his mind; betrayal, murder, the works. Despite running around and around in mental circles Akira still isn’t close to placing his relationship with Akechi. Can you be considered “friends” with somebody who tried to shoot you point blank, then tried to kill your entire team, then sacrificed themself to save said team, then mysteriously came back to life, and is now (seemingly begrudgingly) helping you bring the world back to normal? The circumstances are twisting, confusing, and wholly unprecedented. It doesn’t help that Akechi keeps everything he knows and feels under lock and key, only revealing what he deems necessary for the situation, and leaving everyone around him in the dark.

Akira has settled with the fact that it must be a coping mechanism; after all Akechi’s been through, Akira can’t quite blame him. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating though.

The _jingle_ of the bell above the door startles Akira from his thoughts.

“Greetings, partners in crime!” Futaba announces as she tumbles through the doorway, squirming Morgana in tow.

“Mrow, let me down!” He leaps from her arms and up onto the stool beside Sumire.

Futaba perches on the far seat by the coffee siphon. “I’m pleased to announce that the Phantom Thieves maintain their 100% approval rating on the Phan-Site!”

“The Phantom Thieves are as popular as ever!” Morgana adds in excitement.

Akechi was right—everyone, every single soul on Earth seems to be on the side of the Phantom Thieves. Even at the height of their popularity they were never at 100%. There’s always doubters, haters, non-believers, with anything and anyone in life. And so far, no one beside Akechi & Sumire have outwardly questioned it in the slightest. What the hell is happening?

Akira shares a glance with Sumire, then, “I think we should have a team meeting.”

“Hm? What for?” Futaba asks.

Morgana adds, “We’re done, right? We’ve erased the Metaverse, and now we’re free to bask in the fame and glory!”

“Well, um, we should be celebrating then! Throw a big party, here in Leblanc!” Sumire claps her hands together to punctuate her stilted sentence. Akira prays to Satanael that Futaba & Morgana don’t see straight through her woeful lack of acting skills.

Satanael answers his prayer as they light up. “Excellent thinking, Sumire! I’ll let the others know!” Futaba whips out her smartphone and starts furiously typing. Akira & Sumire pull theirs as well; Morgana peers over to watch from Futaba’s phone.

 _ **Futaba:** good news every1!! PARTY AT LEBLANC TONIGHT _>:^) __

 _ **Ryuji:** PARTY!!! _🎉🎉🥳🥳 _IM ON MY WAY_

 _ **Ann:** Oh, to celebrate the new year as the phantom thieves? Count me in! _^_^ __

_**Yusuke:** Will there be food?_

_**Haru:** Count me in as well! I’d love to bring some snacks and sweets!_

_**Ann:** _🍰😍

“I want sushi! Tell them to bring sushi!” Morgana demands in his small meowing voice.

_**Akira:** Morgana wants sushi._

_**Yusuke:** I would provide some myself but I saw this truly captivating patterned scarf while people-watching in the underground mall this morning and spent the last of my_

_**Makoto:** I’d like to join as well._

_**Yusuke:** groceries budget to purchase it._

_**Futaba:** inaris terrible budgeting aside akira said he’ll make us CURRY!!_ o(｀ω´ )o 🍛🍛🍛🍛❗❗

“I did?”

“Shh!”

_**Sumire:** It was nice running into you guys on New Year’s but we didn’t really get to talk! I figured a real gathering would help us welcome in the new year~_

_**Makoto:** I think that’s a wonderful idea. Akira, when would you like us to be there?_

_**Akira:** An hour?_

_**Haru:** Sounds perfect! I’ll pick up some sweets to finish off the curry on my way._

_**Ryuji:** leave the drinks to me! no ofense to ur coffeev tho leader lmao_

_**Futaba:** CHAT DISMISSED! C U IN T-MINUS 60 MIN!!! _ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

~~~

“Alright, party time!”

“Hi, leader!”

Ryuji crashes through the doorway with the elegance of a rhino, Ann close behind him; they drop their grocery bags onto one of the booth tables, and a few of the sodas tumble onto the floor. Futaba leaps from the other booth to pilfer.

“Now we’re just waiting on Makoto, Yusuke, Haru, and Sumire.”

And one other that Akira has (purposefully) failed to mention.

In the next few minutes the rest of the Phantom Thieves make their arrivals, adorned in heavy coats and scarves; Haru has a few boxes of assorted fancy sweets, as promised. They settle in to chat, and to feast.

“Yo, what’s up with that weird-ass scarf?” Ryuji gestures to the slim figure chowing down on curry at the bar.

“Oh, this?” Yusuke plucks at the colorful fabric around his neck, red patterned with blue, green, & yellow. “So you’re awestruck by its beauty as well! The moment I laid eyes upon it, I knew, this would be my next muse! The composition, the color palette, the creator of this has a truly unparalleled eye for aesthetics!”

“It’s certainly, unique?” Ann chews a bite of cake.

“I think it looks lovely, Yusuke-kun! What about you, Akira-kun?”

“Yeah, it looks great.” Akira calls out from the kitchen where he stirs the next batch of curry for his gluttonous friends. Any minute now.

_Jingle._

Bingo.

“Oh, Akechi!”

“Hey man, what’s up!”

“Welcome, you’re just in time!”

Akira peers around the corner; Akechi meets his eyes, his expression tight, pained.

“Akira.”

The Thieves, sensing the tension that Akechi has brought into the room, shift uncomfortably as their leader pulls off his apron and steps around the counter.

“You guys… need to listen to me.”

“Uh yeah, man, you’re our leader, when don’t we?” Ryuji gives a confused, half-smile.

“Ryuji, shush, this is important.” Makoto interjects. “Is something wrong?”

“You could say that.” Akechi steps forward and crosses his arms.

Sumire stands. “This isn’t a party to celebrate the new year. This is an official meeting of the Phantom Thieves!”

“There’s a Palace. In Odaiba. Our work isn’t done yet, guys.” Akira adds.

The group all turn to look at each other in silence, then, Morgana asks “So?”

“What do you mean, _‘so?’”_ Akechi says with an edge to his voice. “You’re the _Phantom Thieves!”_

“Well…” Ann twirls one of her pigtails. “We’re done fighting, right?”

“Yeah, we’re famous now! We _are_ the Phantom Thieves, and it’s about time we get to lean back and relax!” Ryuji kicks his feet up onto the table to demonstrate.

“What the fuck are you talking about.” Rage starts to color Akechi’s tone. “Have all of you gone insane? Akira, talk some goddamn sense into them!”

“Akechi…” Makoto says softly, “Are you doing alright?”

Akechi looks like he might catch fire. “No. I am not doing alright. You watched me die and are acting like it never happened. You’re handed a new mission and shove it aside in favor of _arrogance and narcissism!_ None of you are alright!”

“This isn’t you!” Sumire cries, “There’s something wrong! You guys have to snap out of it!”

“Snap..?”

“Out of it..?”

Akira sucks in a breath. His strength comes from his team. With them, he saved so many people from rotten, corrupted adults. Now, they seem like the corrupt ones, basking in the spotlight and drowning in the prestige.

 _Oh,_ it’s obvious to him now.

Akira tears off toward the stairs and up to the attic, leaving behind the concerned looks of his teammates.

He rips the Phantom Thieves tapestry down from above the couch and tosses it on the floor, logo-side down.

“Akira!” Morgana comes bounding up the stairs, “What are you doing!”

Akira runs over to his junk-pile in the corner, things that never really found a good home in his room but that he didn’t want to get rid of, digging through papers, cords—here! A few bottles of paint and paintbrushes that Yusuke had left behind after staying the night. Titanium white and a medium brush and Akira is hastily painting out white letters on the tapestry.

“Akira..?” Ann calls out, cautiously, “Are you okay?”

No time to let this dry. Running down the stairs, dramatically draping the calling card over the table. Makoto reads it aloud.

**PHANTOM THIEVES OF HEARTS—  
**

YOU HAVE ALLOWED FAME TO SULLY YOUR OWN HEARTS AND MINDS, AND HAVE BEEN CORRUPTED BY THE DEADLY SIN OF VAINGLORY. YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN WHAT IT TRULY MEANS TO BE A PHANTOM THIEF. IT IS TIME FOR US TO STEAL OUR OWN HEARTS AND RETURN THE WORLD TO NORMAL.

“Vainglory?” Haru asks.

“Our own hearts?” Makoto looks up to her right. “Akira, what does this mean?”

“It means exactly what it says,” Akechi answers, “that you’ve been corrupted. Just like those asshole adults you spent several months beating the crap out of. It’s time for you to come to your fucking senses already.”

Confusion. Bewilderment. Disquiet.

And then one by one, the light bulbs start to go off.

“What the shit!”

“Oh my goodness!”

“Leader, I am _so_ sorry!”

“What are we doing?!”

Akira & Sumire both let out the tense breaths they were holding. Akechi merely scoffs.

“Akira…” Morgana says softly, “what’s happened to us?”

“I don’t… know. I think it had to do when Mementos tried to fuse with the real world. Something…”

“It’s like something glitched out.” Futaba finishes for him. “Right?”

“You said there’s a Palace in Odaiba.” Makoto says, a layer of assuredness thinly veiling fear. “Is it…”

“Our Palace?”

“Can that even happen?”

“We’re not gonna know until we go find out for ourselves, are we.” Akechi snaps.

“Wait, Akechi,” Ryuji stands from his seat, “you’re—you’re supposed to be _dead,_ dude!”

“Ghost!” Futaba yells, “Apparition! Wandering spirit out for vengeance!!”

Akechi pinches the bridge of his nose.

Sumire speaks next, “That’s something else we don’t know yet, either. But he’s agreed to help us, and we can use all the manpower we can get.”

More glances exchanged between the group members, a flurry of thoughts and emotions all thickening the air and coloring the tension. This is bigger than any of them had experienced, and probably than they could’ve imagined. Akira & Sumire stand as the only members who truly trust Akechi, Sumire because she hadn’t experienced his betrayal firsthand, but Akira, well… why? Something still ties them together—be it fate, destiny, whatever. The rest of the Thieves, with furrowed brows and hushed voices, converse between them.

“Can we trust him?”

“Dude, he literally shot our leader!”

“Well, to be fair, he was under Shido’s control…”

“He’s a grown adult, he could’ve chosen not to be, well, a murderer.”

“You can’t blame him, Shido had him completely under his thumb!”

“How do we know he’s telling the truth?”

Akechi’s expression is unreadable; Akira can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that head of his. One of the few people he can never truly read. It drives him mad.

“Well,” Makoto looks like it pains her to say this, but, “if our leader trusts him, then it seems like it’s all we can do.”

“I don’t forgive him, but it’s for the greater good!” Futaba announces. Haru nods in agreement.

“Well, if we’re done stating the obvious, lets go.” Akechi jerks his head toward the door. “We’ve got work to do.”

“I’m not done with my curry!”

“We can’t let these cakes go to waste!”

Akechi sighs. “Fine. When we’re done eating, we have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully those emoji showed up properly lmao

**Author's Note:**

> Do you recognize the second shadow they fight? Hint: it belongs to another wild card


End file.
